Page 35 of The Southern Thirst Trap

“I tried calling.” My voice vibrates with promise and expectation. “I left you messages, but your voicemail box is full now, and you didn't answer my texts,” I say, hands slightly raised in front of me like I’m approaching a skittish feral cat. She could bolt at any second before I can deploy the Trojan horse I’m hoping gets me into her guarded citadel of a life.

She smirks, the smile cruel. “How does it feel to be on the other side of the line when all you want is to have your calls and texts answered by someone and you can’t reach them?” She rolls her eyes and crosses her arms over her ample chest, covering the sports bra that is peeking out from under a light jacket. “I’m surprised you kept my number this time around after blocking me years ago. And since when does not answering a text or call mean you should just stop by?”

“I need to talk to you, Lowe. You owe me that, at the very least.”

She stalks toward me, anger narrowing her eyes like I'm the only thing she sees and she wants to destroy me.

“I owe you?” she repeats. “No.” She shakes her head and her look hardens. “I don't owe you shit, and I never asked for anything from you,” she says for good measure, stabbing a finger into my chest. “When it was me trying to talk to you, you decided I wasn't worth your time or energy, I wasn't worth knowing. You cut me out of your life faster than you buy and sell businesses. It doesn’t matter what came of me after you had your fill.” She pushes her palms against my chest and shoves futilely with a frustrated wail before backing up a step when I don't budge. “Why do you get to show up and demand an audience with me and get the outcome you want, now?” The words burst from her, a broken dam that can’t hold back the frustration, the uncertainty, the fear and loneliness she must have experienced after I cut her off.

My chest grows tight where her hands just were, shame walking cold fingers down my spine as it finally hits me what myruleshave done to her. Possibly to countless other women. Selfishness has always felt so noble and good when I saw it through the lens of my own happiness and conquests.

“You don’t understand. I had to make the break,” I say, my words tense and strained with the horror of the wreckage I’ve left in my wake for years.

I knew I couldn’t let anything remain between us after the trip. It was agony, watching what that did to her, what I did to her, and having to keep a straight face, to lie to her and tell her she meant nothing to me. All I wanted was to scoop her into my lap, bury my face in her neck, and tell her we did have a forever because I would be hers until I took my last breath. But it was the truth when I told her the man she wanted didn’t exist outside of that island and I wasn’t good enough for her.

She laughs bitterly. “I understand just fine. You wanted to use me. You needed company so you wouldn’t get bored in paradise. You wanted a willing body to stick your cock in. You didn’t want anything other than a distraction from your life that was far more important than a relationship or a person. You may have sold me a beautiful lie, but I realized the truth of who you were fast enough. You became a completely different person on the flight home. No need to tell me what I do or don’t understand. I’m not stupid.”

We’re circling each other, predators evaluating weaknesses and looking for the right moment to make a killing blow. This isn't going how I planned, and I have to get it back on track or this will have all been for nothing.

“I never said you were stupid, and I never lied to you. You don't know me at all. And from how crazy you’re acting now, I may have dodged a bullet back then by doing what was necessary,” I fire back, spitting the words out like rapidly thrown knives to pierce her back as my self-perception crumbles around me. I realize my error of letting my anger lead as her eyes go wide. Fuck. That wasn’t the tactic I should have taken.

“Dodged a bullet?” she hisses. “You’re calling me crazy because I don’t like that you showed up at my house after five years, demanding I listen to you? Insisting that I owe you my time and you deserve my consideration when you blocked my number and sent your brother to escort me out of your office building when I tried to talk to you?” she scoffs. “Maybe I would have listened had you manned up and talked to me after that trip, but no, you cut me off and waited all these years to try to explain yourself. You’re still just an entitled rich boy who has no idea what it takes to be a man.”

She raises a hand between us, palm out to stop any rebuttals. I catch it in mine and step into her space, feeling her heat, both her anger that sparks and pops like a wildfire, and the feel of her body as it stumbles into mine. She yanks to pull away, but I don't release her. I want to crush her against me, feel her body mold to mine, and crash my mouth down on hers, no matter how angry we are.

“You know exactly how much of a man I am,” I growl, low and dangerous, sensual heat pouring from us both even as she fights to keep her composure.

She sneers at me, not taking the bait. “Yes, I know what kind of man you are.” She gives me a cruel smile, eyes narrowing. “You’re a man who walls himself off from connection, who refuses to take responsibility, and runs as fast as he can from something good because it got under his skin.”

I growl in frustration and tip my head back, absently pulling her closer to me with a crushing insistence. When I lower my head and fix my eyes on her, I see a heat in her molten chocolate pools that makes me shiver in anticipation. This is the fighter I know. This is the walking temptation that puts fire in my blood.

“Finally, little Wildcat, something you got right,” I seethe, stepping even closer.

We’re chest to chest and she’s not moving away and my hands are on her waist now, holding her to me. She tips her head back to meet my eyes, her hands on my chest, gripping my shirt tightly instead of pushing me away as she breathes just as heavily.

“You did get under my skin,” I grit out. “You burrowed so deep it took years to pull you out, bit by bit. Do you know how often I still look around when I hear a laugh that sounds like yours, searching for you? Every time I smell coconuts, I think of your damn sunscreen and the feel of your skin under my fingers.” I close my eyes and feel a muscle in my jaw tic as I lean my face into hers, my nose against her cheek as my lips find her ear, and inhale her scent deeply. “You weren’t supposed to stick with me. You were a short-term investment, but you had long-term consequences,” I bite out quietly, anger coursing through the words in a shocking cascade of confession I never expected to reveal, not to her, or myself.

I pull back to watch as she schools the shock that widens her eyes and tries not to let me see. “I’m nobody’s short-term anything, Zander,” she spits right back at me, holding onto her own righteous anger. “I’m aforeverinvestment, and my life isn't yours to play with.” She twists free from my grip and steps back, out of my heat and the closeness that melded our bodies together. “It’s time for you to leave. There’s nothing for you here. No one you need to worry your pretty little head about.”

“Harlowe, he’s my son.” I hear the catch in my voice as I acknowledge what has to be the truth, speaking the words low and with a fair amount of pleading for her to give me this. “Let me be a part of his life and let me into yours. I’ll take care of everything, make sure he’s always provided for.” I make a dive off the course I set, going to what feels comfortable when I’m negotiating, and that’s upping the stakes to get the other party to agree to my terms.

She pauses to turn around slowly from her walk back up the drive. She levels me with the most seriousI will fuck you up if you come for my childstare.

“He’s not your son. He’s mine, and I can provide for him just fine on my own. He doesn’t have a father, just a sperm donor that I made a mistake of letting close to me. You don't have to concern yourself with me or Hendricks. Don’t worry, I don't want anything from you, not your money, not your acknowledgment, and certainly not you wanting to play father now when it's convenient for you.” The exhaustion and trepidation that coats her words gives them a low, sticky quality that will be impossible to wash clean. I can see the fire in her has gone out, and instead of feeling victorious, it takes it out of me, as well. Neither of us wants to be fighting in her driveway.

“I’m not done with you, Harlowe.” My words are a heated declaration rather than a threat. I will make her see reason, let me in and work with me, not against me. I follow her up the cracked concrete driveway until all that separates us is the threshold of the garage, the door hanging above us, a guillotine poised to sever all the threads weaving us together again.

She blinks quickly, her thick lashes sweeping over the dark circles below her warm chocolate eyes telling me how tired of this she is. “You’re five years too late, Zander.”

My heart clenches with her words and I feel the anger flood out of me, leaving just my desperation behind. My brain finally catches up, and I remember what my whole purpose was for coming here before I got caught up in fighting with her.

“It’s the right time to try again, Lowe. Differently this time. You and me. Not just for a weekend, or a few weeks. You and I both know we’re perfect together,” I say, reaching out a hand and letting my thumb skim her cheek. “I’ll be the man you need me to be. You’re all mine, Lowe. Forever, remember?” I say, going for broke, pulling out the most painful memory from the vault, the one that burns as I rip it free and throw it at her feet. It’s my heart that she stole and I had to cut out when I boarded the jet to come home. The very heart I locked away and vowed never to need again. Yet here it is, still beating solely for her, bruised and bloody as it may be.

I watch the shine of tears form in her eyes as she clicks the remote in her hand, sending the garage door trundling slowly down between us.

“You told me forever was a lie, Zander. You were never mine to have.”

I see the hitch of a sob part her lips when I have to lower my arm to avoid the door, and catch a stray tear streaking down her cheek as it obscures her face, erasing her body, and finally cuts us off completely.

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